


looking right back

by Siria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People made assumptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking right back

People made assumptions. That was how it had been for Steve before the serum; it was one of the things that didn't change afterwards. Shorthand was quick and easy and comforting. It told you everything you needed to know about the skinny little guy with the hacking cough that always lingered too long past winter's end; told you that you knew who that straight-backed, uniformed guy was, marching into carefully edited, ruthlessly sanitised battle up there on the silver screen. Shorthand meant you had the luxury of not looking. 

Peggy had never been one for assumptions, or for accepting a less-than-satisfactory situation. Steve thought that was probably the only reason he was waking up like this, now: to the bedsheets tangled around his ankles, his bare skin warmed only by the morning sun and by Peggy lying beside him. She was stubborn, his Peggy, and she pushed, and she never bought what someone else was selling her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like happiness like this: as if the emotion were a palpable thing, a weight in his chest that altered his breathing and made his pulse come faster. 

Steve turned his head to press a kiss to Peggy's tousled, dark curls. His thrill at being able to do that was nothing compared to the one he got when the gesture made Peggy hum and smile, eyes still closed; when she shifted closer, sliding one long leg over his. 

"Morning," Steve whispered, and Peggy opened her eyes and grinned at him and didn't answer him with words. She reached out and touched him instead—running her hand the length of Steve's thigh, knee to hip and back again, over and over—not breaking eye contact with him the whole time. Steve didn't know if it was the steady, direct way she watched him or the way her palms rubbed the short hairs against the grain that made him shiver. He didn't really care, though, not with the way she looked at him: as if Peggy wasn't taking pleasure in his body alone, or in the fact that she'd slept with Captain America, but in _him_. 

He shifted against the sheets, a silent invitation for her to keep touching him like that: for her to skim her fingertips along the tender skin of his inner thigh, to make the long muscles there twitch at the gentle pressure of her hands. Peggy obliged, and she had him moaning softly by the time she moved so that she was straddling him. She braced herself by bracketing his hips with her thighs, and Steve could feel how she was still damp from last night. The realisation made him shiver, and he couldn't help reaching up to touch her: the firm line of her jaw, the sweet curve of her breast, her hair where the dawn light had limned it with gold. Peggy smiled and stretched deliberately, rubbing against his growing erection and making him bite at his lower lip. 

"Again?" Steve asked, and even he could hear the pleasure in his own voice, the faint note of shock that meant _still?_. He'd been eager last night, done everything he could to follow what she'd told him, but he was under no illusion that he was skilled at this, not yet. 

"Steve," Peggy said, her hand mimicking the path his had taken—fingers trailing over his jaw, his throat, down along his chest and lower still. She was looking at him the whole time, and she was smiling, and Steve was starting to think that maybe this was the one thing he was going to get to keep—the one thing that would be nothing but good.


End file.
